Distraction
by redpurpleblack
Summary: She needs a distraction. And Triss Merigold is the prettiest distraction Ves has ever seen. / Ves x Triss; Written for Femslash February 2016


Title: _Distraction_

Fandom: _The Witcher_

Characters/Pairings: Ves, Triss Merigold, mentions of Vernon Roche, Geralt and Zoltan Chivay; Ves x Triss

Rating: T

Warnings: femslash, swearing, Witcher 2 spoilers, bisexual characters

Summary: She needs a distraction. And Triss Merigold is the prettiest distraction Ves has ever seen.

Disclaimer: _The Witcher_ is not mine.

A/N: This fic doesn't really have much sense but recently I'm playing The Witcher series again, and after finishing TW2 this idea wouldn't leave my mind so I had to write it.

Written for Femslash February 2016.

* * *

There are times when Ves wonders what the hell she's doing. She's not blaming Roche, she's not blaming anyone. She merely wonders how is it possible that no matter what they do everything goes to shit anyway.

King Foltest is dead. Gerald of Rivia claims he's innocent; Roche believes him, apparently, but Ves is not so easily convinced. She keeps an eye on him, even though the witcher appears to be Roche's best friend now.

Ves hates Flotsam, and it seems like the city is quite aware of her feelings and hates her too. They're stuck in this shithole where every man she meets does nothing but stare at her tits. When one wanted to grope her, she broke his arm. Roche wasn't happy about it, said something about trying to blend in, but she could see he's quite proud of his 'little sister'. Well, at least the peasants know it's better to stay away from her.

That's why she needs a distraction. And Triss Merigold is the prettiest distraction Ves has ever seen.

She knows about the sorceress and the witcher, of course. Everyone knows. But it doesn't bother her at all. It's not like Ves wants a relationship. All she needs is a distraction, nothing else.

Geralt and Zoltan came to discuss something, although their _serious_ _discussion_ ended when the dwarf put three bottles of some liquor on the table. Ves doesn't know what is it but they look like they're drinking liquid flame. Roche couched for about ten minutes after he had the first sip, now he seems more or less fine, so she's not too worried about him. If he wants to have a massive hangover tomorrow then it's his problem.

Watching the boys getting more and more drunk with every passing minute is boring, so Ves leaves them just when Zoltan starts questioning Roche about his hair as if it was the most interesting topic in the world.

"Just take it off! Show us what you're hiding under that towel!"

"It's _not_ a towel!" Roche protests, offended, his speech slightly slurred. "I'm not hiding anything."

"Oh, really? Then why do you always wear that thing? Do you have a tattoo on your skull? Show us!"

Thankfully Geralt says something about tattoos, distracting Roche and Zoltan before their inevitable fistfight may happen. Ves stops listening, deciding she's had enough.

She sits down in a chair near the window, and lets out a sigh. She'd rather get some sleep instead of listening to their drunken mumbling. Then she hears the door opening; someone walks in, greeted by enthusiastic shouts.

"TRISS!" Zoltan yells. "Here's to the prettiest sorceress in Flotsam!"

"Careful or you'll spill all your drink on the table," Triss scoffs. "I see you're all having fun. I'm not sure this is something I want to see..."

Hearing Triss, Ves can't help but wonder why the sorceress is even here. It's certainly not a problem. _It's the opposite of a problem_ , she thinks observing as Triss comes to the other room.

"Not in a mood for drinking?" the sorceress asks, walking closer.

"Not in a mood for a dick measuring contest," Ves replies. As the only woman in the Blue Stripes she is used to many things. It can be tiring sometimes, dealing with men who focus on two things: booze and whores.

"Come here," Ves says with a grin. She needs a distraction, and since Triss is here...

Before the sorceress can protest, Ves pulls her down, so Triss sits in her lap. She feels reckless tonight, her impatient hands want to touch as much as they could as her lips kiss the warm skin of the other woman's neck. Triss shudders slightly but doesn't protest. It's something Ves truly likes about her – that the sorceress always lets her.

Triss Merigold isn't a prude, she knows what she wants. It's a coincidence that Ves wants the exact same thing – a distraction. Men are dull and predictable, while women... Women, Ves discovered, can offer so much more. Besides, as naive as it sounds only a woman can fully understand another woman.

Ves takes a deep breath, inhaling Triss' sweet perfume. It reminds her of summer, sunny days, colourful flowers, and a place far away from all this mud and dirt of Flotsam.

"I'm glad you're here," she whispers, placing a small kiss on Triss' cheek. She feels the heat of the woman's body as Triss blushes.

"Couldn't leave you alone with this pack of wild dogs."

Triss is sweet, naively believing that having the witcher as her lover is what she truly wants. Ves doesn't know the full story, obviously. However, she heard enough to know that one day the man will break Triss' heart. Triss Merigold deserves more. Sadly, Ves doesn't have much to offer.

But Ves doesn't want to worry about it. She also doesn't want Triss to think about anything or _anyone_ else, so she kisses her, impatient, while her skilled fingers open the woman's blouse to reveal a lacy – and expensive – bra. Ves wants to see more, touch the soft skin, but Triss grabs her wrist.

"Not now, not here," Triss whispers, glancing anxiously at the open door.

Only a wall separates them from the men. Ves is quite sure Zoltan would have a heart attack if he walked in on them. At least the dwarf would die happy. How Roche would react – now this is a mystery, even though Ves knows him so well. He's a bit overprotective sometimes.

 _Then what are you doing here?_ , Ves wants to ask but doesn't. It would mean she expects something more, something true, when in reality this, whatever this is between her and Triss, is nothing but... What? A game? Stolen kisses and moments of pleasure?

 _Whatever this is_ , Ves thinks kissing Triss again, _I want it._

Suddenly there's a commotion in the other room, a chair falls on the floor with a loud thud. It seems the boys got bored, and want to go somewhere else, preferably to a place with more alcohol.

"To the whorehouse!" shouts Zoltan from the outside. There's more shouting, a bottle breaks. Roche swears, though at this point his words are incomprehensible. Hearing all this noise Ves lets out a sigh.

"I have to go after them. I don't give a fuck what happens to the dwarf but I won't let Roche choke with his own vomit. Temeria is counting on that idiot."

She sounds almost apologetic, hiding her frustration. Of course the boys can have some fun while she's the one who has to stay sober and watch over them. Those who think Ves is Roche's guard dog aren't entirely wrong. The thought makes her wince.

Triss gets up, adjusts her pretty clothes. In seconds she looks perfect again. She takes a step back, and Ves stares at her for a moment too long. The sorceress averts her eyes, blushing slightly. Ves finds it very hard to get up as if she was tied down to the chair. Or perhaps a certain witch put a spell on her, turning her into a statue. As loyal Ves is to Roche, she wouldn't mind doing what _she_ wants just this once.

"Go after them before they hurt themselves," Triss says.

"Fucking idiots..." Ves mutters and finally gets up. She didn't drink much, yet she feels light headed.

Triss still stands close, so close Ves could reach out and pull her in a warm embrace, inhale that sweet scent again, taste her lovely lips. Triss Merigold is not only a disctraction. She's a dangerous temptation calling out to Ves, promising the sweetest things. And Ves wants to give in completely. In a world full of nothing it's her only chance to feel something.

But her duty calls. Ves swears again. She follows Triss to the other room, her mind distracted by the redhead's swaying hips.

"You know where to find me later."

Their eyes meet. Triss has a playful smile on her lips.

Perhaps it's a promise.


End file.
